Dignity
by Fallout From The Afterparty
Summary: The 99th Hunger Games are over. That much, I know. But the rest? Well, that's a mystery. Everyone is left alive- but we have no idea who we are. Where are we? Where were we? What's going on?


Chapter 1.

To: Dr. Burkhart.

From: President Coin, District 13.

Subject: Hunger Games, 99.

_Phase One proceeded as planned. The Hunger Games went perfectly. Most tributes survived, with only minor casualties. Phase Two will begin shortly._

Eerie silence rings through the whole of Panem. The remains of North America is without sound. If you listened closely, perhaps you could hear a stray squirrel or fox in the forest behind the Fence. But even that was rare.

Something is going to happen; everyone can feel it. It is for this reason that, when the satellites broadcasting the Hunger Games disconnected, everything stopped. People in the first few districts stopped indulging themselves with extravagant clothing or food. People in the poorer districts stopped working. Everyone was still, anxiously still.

The screens crackle to life. President Snow has this under control. People crowd around the televisions. Whether they're in their private penthouses or huddled around the only working screen in the village, they are all tuning in to watch the Hunger Games again.

President Snow's age-lined, made-up face appears. His smile is forced, and coupled with his blood red lips, is a horrific sight. "Greetings, citizens of Panem," he says. His voice is choppy with the weak signal from the Capitol.

"You must all be wondering about what has happened. I can assure you that everything is under control right now. There will be a slight change of plans, however." He pauses to wet his lips nervously. "I realize you did not get to view the finish of the Games, but they have reached an end at last. Congratulations to those victorious in the 99th Hunger Games!"

In the background there is cheering from people of the Capitol. President Snow's smile is strained. He doesn't offer any sort of resolution, other than his statement that the Hunger Games have ended.

The signal is gone again, and the viewers are met with static. They stare in bewilderment at the screen, until one of those in the crowd has the sense to turn it off. The silence crashes into the village, and everyone can tell something is wrong.

Voices start up, people talking anxiously amongst themselves. It becomes a sea of noise and voices and rumors.

Until an unseen siren blares three times methodically, calling their attention to it. _"The Hunger Games are not over,"_ it screeches, the speaker's voice sounding frantic and hurried. _"The tributes have been pulled out early. Rebellion is the only way. Prepare yourselves! We have to fight back!"_

Chapter 2.

To: President Coin, District 13.

From: Dr. Burkhart.

Subject: Re: Hunger Games, 99.

_President Snow did not handle that well. I thought you had this under control. No matter, I will take things from here. Do not disappoint me next time. _

I remember blue skies and gray skies. I remember clouds. I remember getting up every morning with the familiar pains of hunger and cold.

What I do not remember is where I would get up. Little things, like where I lived, my family. Who did I love? Who did I trust? Who should I miss right now?

My mind, my emotions- I feel strangely empty. As if I never had any memories of my own to begin with. But I know I did. I must have. I still do, if I just search hard enough.

First task: opening my eyes. My whole body explodes with pain as I come to, so much that I can't focus on one spot. Where am I? As panic overcomes pain, I take a breath and open my eyes.

Bright. So bright. I immediately close my eyes again, but now that I've had a glimpse, as blinding and fractured as it may be, I can't be satisfied with the unknown.

So I slowly, carefully, open my eyes. Through my eyelashes, I can make out more of the darkness that belongs to the gray, stormy skies in my memory. I can't see much more than that, but it tells me enough. Gloomy, bleak. Not a place I would choose to be.

A voice that isn't mine pierces the veil of silence and gloom. "Where am I?" I can tell the speaker thinks they're alone, as I did. Until now.

I realize I'm lying down. My right arm is pinned under me, my leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Painfully, I sit up. My eyes are still closed, so I don't turn my head to look for the speaker. "_We_ are somewhere… unknown."

Finally, I can open my eyes. The light is still bright, but not unbearably so. Now I realize why the voice was so familiar. The boy's face- I feel as if I know it.

He looks at me, confused. Unkempt hair so black it looks blue falls into his eyes, which are nearly as dark as his hair. His skin is dark, but so dirty I can't tell if it's simply dirt and blood. He looks as if he's been fighting. "Why are you here?" he asks, looking around.

I follow his gaze, and realize there are more people, boys and girls alike. No one over eighteen, but many are as young as twelve or thirteen. Each face is familiar to me, but I can't remember where I would have seen them.

"You." A small girl with blond hair and blue eyes is staring at me. She doesn't look frightened; in fact, she appears almost bloodthirsty. I instantly lean back, away from her.

"Me?" I ask challengingly, raising an eyebrow, hiding the nervousness I really feel. The recognition in her voice, that single word, frightens me.

She shakes her head in disgust. "You killed Grid. You were going to kill me." Her steely blue eyes are fixed on me with a look of hatred.

"What are you talking about?" I hiss. "I would _never—_"

It comes back to me in a flash. The Hunger Games. Me. "Arriane Striker," I murmur softly. That's me, I recognize. "It's true."

"Welcome back, sweetheart," the girl says sarcastically. "Congratulations. You participated in the Hunger Games, just like the rest of us."


End file.
